


The Best Little Whorehouse in Thedas

by ContreParry



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Costumes, Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mostly this was an excuse to play dress up with Anders, Prostitution, The Blooming Rose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-27 21:06:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6300403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ContreParry/pseuds/ContreParry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders has a big heart, and it gets him in trouble sometimes. For the Dragon Age Kink Meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was Anders at the Rose with a twist, where Anders works for one night a week at the Blooming Rose and Fenris continues to purchase him for those nights to play cards and prevent Anders from being harmed. Cue Anders developing a massive crush and attempting to seduce Fenris. The prompt was so charming I had to try and fill it out.

There were some days that Anders hated being such a bleeding heart. He was at the Rose, checking up on the girls (and boys) who worked the rooms under Madame Lusine's direction, when Erzsébet's water broke all over the scratched oak floor of her room. Anders had told her to not work this past week, to take it easy because her baby was coming, but Erzsébet had three younger siblings who needed the coin and no one else to help her. If there was more money, she could rest and care for her child properly, but there was never enough. Everything in Kirkwall was like a hungry mouth. You could pour your entire being into it and it would snap it all up greedily and still demand more. 

Erzsébet delivered her healthy boy, large and squalling, red-faced and round. While the babe's health was encouraging, Anders worried over the state of the mother. Erzsébet was a small girl, and the birth wore her out. She would not be working for some time. He tucked Erzsébet into bed and let her nurse her newborn before he went downstairs to speak with Madame Lusine in her office. There had to be a way to help her, there had to be something that could be done. It was not right, not _just_ , to have a new mother work as a whore right after she delivered her child. 

“Nothing I can do.” Lusine said without even sparing a glance. “Either she works or she's let go.” 

“She's just given birth!” Anders protested. How could she be so callous? So cold? Erzsébet worked here for years, gave Lusine so much business, why would she dismiss her? How could she? Anders gaped at the older woman. She had not even bothered to look up. 

“I run a business, messere, not a charity.” Lusine replied as she looked over her large, leather-bound book of customer names and money and expenses. Her bony fingers tapped the heavily polished wood of the desk with a rapid, restless tap tap tap. 

“I am telling you, she cannot work right now. She's still recovering. Magic cannot fix what's broken in her body. Only time can do that.” Anders argued. “Is there anything-” 

“Either someone works for her, or she works herself.” Lusine stated. “Erzsébet knows it, I know it, and you should too, Healer.” 

“Then I'll do it.” Anders said automatically. Erzsébet needed to rest, she needed at least a month of rest before she could work again, and Anders knew he could take her shifts if he needed. “Keep what you pay me to heal the workers and I'll take her shifts. Free healing for a month and I'll be one of your workers.” 

“Healer, this is hardly your business-” Lusine said, but Anders interrupted her. 

“Will you take it or not?” Anders asked stubbornly. He worked in brothels before, he had plenty of sex before. He could live with having bad sex for money if it meant keeping Erzsébet off her feet and her family well fed. He'd done it enough times for less noble reasons. 

Madame Lusine's eyes scanned his body, calculating the risks versus the rewards of Anders's offer. Anders knew he was tempting enough for the average Rose customer. He cleaned up nicely, and in his youth he was extremely desirable. Plenty of people were eager enough to drag him into bed and have their way with him then, and he could make it happen again. Anders let Lusine look all she liked. His hair would have to be trimmed with something better than a dull knife, Anders thought. His nails would have to be clipped. He would also have to bathe in something a little more luxurious than a quick wash in cold water with lye soap. His clothing, ragged coat and light armor, would have to go away while he worked, but he could work a deal with Lusine or the other workers, Anders was sure of it. Lusine liked to keep up appearances, she wouldn't let a bedraggled apostate healer work in her brothel unless she knew she could turn a profit. 

“Free healing for a month?” Lusine's eyes glittered with interest. 

“For a month.” Anders promised. That was already a good chunk of money the brothel would save. Working in the brothel in Erzsébet's place would more than make up for her loss. Anders knew that Lusine could see this, but she was clearly searching for more ways to make more coin out of the opportunity. 

“And I pay you Erzsébet's wages in her place?” Lusine's fingers continued to tap on the wood. “After I take the regular cuts, of course.” 

“I will work evenings in her place.” Anders promised. “For her wages, until she can work again.” 

“You drive a hard bargain, Healer.” Lusine said with a smug little smile. “You're hired.” 

-

So because of his big stupid bleeding heart, Anders was now lingering in one of the back rooms in the Rose as several of the workers fussed over him and made him ready for the night's work. Jethann washed Anders's hair and combed it before trimming it with scissors. 

“Healer, you are either the most generous or the stupidest man I've ever met.” Jethann tutted as he once again combed Anders's hair. His face was smooth and soft, and one of the women, Cora, helped him wash up with a jasmine scented soap. He had been patted dry and pampered, with kohl brushed into his eyelashes to lengthen the lashes and define his eyes. 

“It's probably both.” Anders said mournfully as he stood in nothing more than his ragged smallclothes. Jethann pulled out several outfits that could potentially fit Anders from a chest in the corner. Anders was surprised that Lusine had items that fit his frame on hand, broad shouldered and tall as he was. After a moment's deliberation, Jethann put away most of the outfits, the finer silks and skirts, the corsets and thin silk robes, in favor of a low cut, almost see-through white shirt of fine muslin and some tight dark leggings. Anders's sharp eyes caught the worn down spots in the shirt at the elbows, the slightly frayed fabric at the cuffs. Jethann pushed an earring into his earlobe and straightened out Anders's shirt. 

“Nice griffin tattoo, Healer.” Jethann said with a smirk. “Makes you look dangerous.” Anders tried to smirk back but there was nothing else for him to say. He took a deep breath and tried to relax. It wasn't hard, it was just sex. He was good at sex. Anders could work in a brothel, it was only a month. And, in a stroke of good luck or the Maker's mercy, Erzsébet had only been working one night a week on the floor. She spent the rest of her hours working as a laundress. So he only had to work for one evening this week, making the rounds and offering himself up to interested parties for coin. If he made enough during those weeks, plus the extra coin he brought in with Hawke, Erzsébet and her family would live comfortably for some time. 

“We're all watching for Templars. We know them by sight, recruits and all.” Jethann murmured in Anders's ear. “Lusine might not give a nug's ass, but we do, Healer. We'll keep you safe.” 

“Thank you, Jethann. That means a lot.” Anders murmured back before walking out into the main room of the Blooming Rose. Madame Lusine might not care about keeping people safe if it meant risking her own hide, but her employees cared, even when it put them in harm's way. 

-

Anders stood by the main floor fireplace with his back to the flames. Not only did the fire keep him warm and prevent people from approaching him from behind, but it highlighted his best features. His golden-red hair glimmered like honey on toast. The shadows lessened the wrinkles around his eyes, smoothing his age away until he was young and rakish once again. He smiled at a few potential customers and fluttered his eyelashes, searching for someone he could approach. He needed someone safe, someone he could trust not to murder or hurt him. Or at least someone who would leave minimal damage that he could heal later. Anders would have to be careful about picking his clients several times tonight. 

Even as he smiled beguilingly at some of the nicer looking customers, Anders was screaming on the inside. Do this for Erzsébet, he thought as he once again scanned the room, do it for Erzsébet and her younger siblings, for her newborn child. He was an older man, a runaway apostate, a Gray Warden. He could bear this for a time. He could hold on. He knew he could, because there had always been worse. Anders once again scanned the room for clients. There was a man at a corner table with a lady. They acted wealthier than they appeared, two Hightown nobles slumming it in the Rose. The man gave him several glances, and the lady seemed interested. He just had to approach them and offer himself up. He'd be occupied for a few hours, perhaps, and then start the cycle all over again until the sun rose. Anders straightened his back and stepped forward, just as the front door opened and a man stepped over the threshold. 

Not just a man, Anders realized as his heart sank to the bottom of his thin soled cotton slippers. Not just a man, but a man he knew. _Fenris_ , that grim, sullen, brooding warrior elf of Hawke's. The only thing that could be worse is if Knight-Commander Meredith Stannard stormed into the Rose and demanded Anders participate in an orgy with all the Templars under her command in the Gallows. And as worldly as Anders was, he had no interest in performing fellatio on Knight Captain Cullen, no matter how good looking that arsehole was. Anders tried to retreat and make himself inconspicuous, tried to hide amongst the bodies of workers and customers and the dim lighting in the smokey room, but Fenris's sharp eyes spotted him first. 

Those forest green eyes widened in surprised recognition before narrowing in suspicion. They flicked up and down, taking in the new clothing, the fastidious grooming, the kohl lined eyes and shining, loose hair that tumbled and framed Anders's face. Fenris's lips twitched into a tiny frown before he marched over to Anders, and Anders wished the floor would swallow him whole. 

“Have you taken leave of your senses?” Fenris asked in a hissed whisper when they were finally close enough to speak without others overhearing. “Has the demon addled your mind?” 

“No. I'm just enjoying a night out.” Anders lied through his teeth. Go away, go away, go away he chanted in his head, hoping beyond hope that Fenris would take a hint and leave him alone. “So let me get back to enjoying myself, elf.” 

“And your enjoyment depends on dressing in a shirt thinner that tissue paper as you flaunt yourself like a brood mare?” Fenris said with a snort. “Get dressed in your ratty garments, I will take you to Hawke. He may deal with your latest bout of madness.” Fenris grabbed Anders's wrist in one gauntleted hand, but suddenly Madame Lusine was there, flanked by one of the larger men she kept as a personal bouncer for the brothel. 

“Are you giving one of my workers trouble, Serrah Elf?” Lusine asked with cool politeness. The man cracked his knuckles to punctuate the question. Fenris looked between Lusine and Anders, once, twice, a third time, clearly drawing his own conclusions about what happened. Anders hoped Fenris would keep his mouth shut about this. Isabela would never let him live this down. Anders could hear the jokes about The Pearl, sparkle fingers, and electricity already. 

“How much?” Fenris asked. Anders's eyes widened and his mouth dropped. He must have misheard, right? Or gone mad. Yes, that was it, he certainly did not hear Fenris inquire about prices. 

“Two sovereigns for premium service. One sovereign for standard service. Fifty silver and someone may touch you. Briefly.” Lusine said as she eyed Fenris with distaste. 

“And for the night?” 

“Six sovereigns.” Lusine said smugly, certain that an elf would never have that amount of coin on their person. Fenris shrugged and deposited six shining sovereigns in the woman's outstretched palm. 

“Come, Anders.” Fenris ordered, and Anders's feet automatically moved forward, stepping back to Erzsébet's room like he rehearsed in his head ever since he offered to work in her place. This was not what he wanted or expected. None of his friends, none of Hawke's companions, were supposed to know about this. This was supposed to be a private affair between himself, Lusine, and whoever happened to buy him for the night. No one else was supposed to be involved, especially not a mage-hater like Fenris. The blood in Anders's veins ran cold. 

He was weak now, his power reduced without a staff to focus his energy and Templars waiting right outside the door with the other prostitutes. He was helpless. Fenris could do anything to him, Hawke and the others couldn't intervene and stop him from taking and hurting. Lusine was paid, and anything could happen to him- no. No, Fenris was not like that, Anders scolded himself. Fenris would not be kind, because kindness was not a part of who he was, but he would not rape or murder. He would only tease and mock him, and Anders could bear that. He had before without falling apart. He rested his hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath, and turned it before stepping inside and letting Fenris brush past him. 

Anders looked over the room with a critical eye. The bed was covered in once fine, now worn down crimson linen. The down coverlet was embroidered with wildflowers, the vibrant colors now faded. One of the workers lit a fire in the fireplace, and someone (Anders suspected it was Erzsébet) filled a vase with slightly wilted roses and set it on a side table. A jug of wine and two goblets were set out on a small table near the fireplace, and two padded chairs flanked the table. Fenris had set his sword alongside the wall and was unfastening his gauntlets, placing them on a low, cushioned bench. The firelight gleamed on his pale hair. Anders felt his fingers tremble. This was nothing, he reminded himself sternly. Sex was sex, and he had plenty of bad sex before. Nothing Fenris did could surprise him. 

Now divested of his armor, Fenris settled down in one of the chairs in front of the fire and reached into one of the pouches hanging on his thick belt and pulled out a pack of playing cards. He looked up at Anders and raised one dark eyebrow. 

“Do you plan to stand there all day with your mouth gaping open like a fish?” Fenris asked condescendingly. Anders blinked as Fenris began to shuffle the cards and set them out on the table. 

“Excuse me?” Anders asked. What, by Andraste's Bouncing Tits, was Fenris _doing_? 

“Will you play cards or not?” Fenris asked with exaggerated patience. Anders tottered over to the vacant chair and collapsed into it bonelessly. Fenris divided the deck, wordlessly passing cards to Anders until they had their respective hands and Fenris started playing Diamondback. 

“Why... why are you doing this?” Anders asked quietly. 

“Someone must keep you from being foolish.” Fenris remarked as he lay a card on the table. “Whatever foolishness got you into this mess, I will ensure it does not come back to damage Hawke or anyone else.” 

“If that was all, you could just leave and let me work.” Anders pointed out, laying his own card on the table. “No need to get involved.” 

“I keep my promises.” Fenris met Anders's eyes. “I promised Hawke I would keep an eye on the mages in our company. When you choose to act recklessly...” 

“You play bodyguard.” Anders snarked. “Wonderful. I don't need a keeper, especially not you.” 

“There are three fully ranked Templars downstairs.” Fenris said casually, so casually Anders knew it wasn't casual at all. “I could leave you, a wanted apostate, to their tender mercies should I so choose.” 

“You wouldn't.” Anders whispered, though he couldn't completely hide the tremor in his voice. There were two possibilities, Anders realized right then. Either he was right about Fenris and Fenris wouldn't harm him, or Anders had completely misjudged him. 

“No.” Fenris agreed. “I wouldn't.” Fenris placed one final card on the table. “And you have lost the game. Are you as abysmal at Diamondback as you are at Wicked Grace?” Fenris seemed amused by Anders's terrible card playing. Anders was not. 

“So you're here out of the goodness of your heart to beat me at cards and... and what else?” Anders asked. “I don't have coin. What do you want me to do, take off my clothes?” 

“Not particularly.” Fenris said dryly. “I am interested, however, in how you ended up in this predicament.” 

Anders rolled his eyes. Of course Fenris would want to know about that. Even though he kept his mouth shut and didn't spread gossip, Anders knew that Fenris soaked up rumors like a sponge. He listened to everything, every scrap of potential information. Anders assumed it was a habit developed from Fenris's life as a slave, and later on his life on the run. But Fenris had purchased his company for the night, and if he wanted to hear the story... 

“It is foolish.” Anders admitted as he poured Fenris a glass of wine from the jug. “Foolish, even for me.” 

“I will be the judge of that.” Fenris stated firmly, taking the wine glass from Anders's hand. 

Anders told Fenris everything. He told him of healing the workers in the Rose, of Erzsébet's pregnancy and her siblings, her lack of money. The birth of Erzsébet's child, and how Erzsébet needed her rest before returning to work. As the fire crackled, Anders admitted that he made Madame Lusine an offer. He would work in Erzsébet's place while she rested and offer free healing for the brothel for a month if Lusine did not fire Erzsébet. Through it all, Fenris's expression was as placid and smooth as a frozen pond. In an even quieter voice, Anders said that he could bear it, that it wasn't like sex was a hardship, but that if Fenris could please, _please_ not breathe a word to Hawke about this incident, he would be grateful. 

"I know it was stupid, that I'm too soft hearted. But I had to do something." Anders finished miserably, looking into the wine he poured for himself. Wine he poured but wine that Justice would not let him touch. But he felt Fenris's gaze on him, heavy and judgmental, and Anders could not look up and face him. 

“You are a fool.” Fenris finally said once Anders finished speaking and the silence stretched out between them like a frayed rope pulled to its limits. “A great fool. You put yourself at great risk, doing this. What should happen if a Templar seeks your services, and your demon reacts to their touch? Execution would be the kindest fate you would suffer.” Fenris said, scolding Anders. 

“I could not stand by and do nothing!” Anders protested angrily, slapping his hand down on the table. It rocked slightly on its unstable, uneven legs. “What sort of healer would I be, letting my patients suffer when I can stop it?” 

“A poor one. You are a dedicated healer, mage.” Fenris said after he sipped his wine. “Your heart is in the right place, wanting to help the helpless. I do not see why you should suffer for doing what is right.” 

Justice, who had been lurking silent in Anders's mind this whole evening, exuded warmth and pride at Fenris's words **yes, good, he understands, he _supports_ us** , and Anders had to agree. Fenris was protecting him by staying here. And having sex with Fenris wouldn't be a great chore, Anders thought as he gave Fenris a considering once over. He was slim, like most elves, and strong, with sharp features and bright eyes and a sinful voice. Sex with Fenris wouldn't kill him- it could even be decent. Fenris had strength and stamina, and Anders could handle whatever Fenris threw at him. 

“Fenris...” Anders took a deep breath, his fingers plucking at the frayed collar of his shirt. “It... you paid for the night. If you're planning to use it, I... what I mean to say is... that is... Fenris, you paid for the night.” 

“I only planned to have a glass of wine and play cards.” Fenris remarked. “You may stay here and play as well, or you may sleep. I will ensure that no one enters until morning.” 

“But it's...” Anders tried to say, tried to tell Fenris that it was okay if he wanted what he paid for, that Anders didn't expect special treatment because they knew each other, but Fenris shook his head. 

“Your foolish kindness will not be taken advantage of if I can prevent it.” Fenris said calmly. “Not by others, and certainly not by me.” 

“So what are we doing, then?” Anders asked quietly. 

“What we have been doing.” Fenris interrupted, once again shuffling the cards in his slender, calloused fingers. “You are keeping me company while we play Diamondback. With practice you may become decent at it.” Anders took the cards from Fenris. Their fingers brushed against each other, and Fenris quickly pulled away, as if he had been burned. As if any touch between them was unwanted. As if he respected Anders's autonomy enough to not touch Anders, even when he had permission to do so. 

“Try to pay attention to the game, mage.” Fenris remarked, the firelight glimmering and transforming his eyes into glowing emerald gems set in amber skin and silver lines. “We will be playing for some time.” 

And that was when Anders's big bleeding heart fell in love.


	2. Chapter 2

Anders looked over the outfit Jethann picked out, the same thin shirt and dark leggings from before. While it had its appeal and made Anders look like a pampered little lordling lazing about in a brothel, Anders felt it didn't quite have the effect he wanted. Fenris hadn't even looked at him beyond noticing that he wasn't wearing his jacket and boots. 

“Perhaps I should wear something a little more daring?” Anders suggested to the elf, who raised one thin eyebrow. Jethann's lips stretched into a wide smirk at Anders's remark. 

“Trying to catch someone's attention, Healer?” Jethann teased. Anders flushed, his face warm with embarrassment. Fenris's actions had not gone unnoticed at the Rose, and while Madame Lusine eagerly anticipated another visit from the elf, the other workers had taken to teasing Anders almost mercilessly about his admirer. The teasing was worth bearing, though, when Anders handed four sovereigns to Erzsébet the next day. It would feed her family for a month at least. The small woman (no more than a girl, really) beamed up at him and thanked him before shyly asking him to check on her child and make sure he was well. Anders was pleased to announce that Erzsébet's child was perfectly healthy. 

“It's for a good cause.” Anders mumbled. Jethann combed through the clothes in the corner chest before pulling out a silken teal-colored bathrobe embroidered with birds and flowers. He shook it out, the fabric sharply _snapping_ in the air before he folded it over the back of a chair. 

“Take off the shirt, but keep the leggings. The fabric will look _divine_ with your skin.” Jethann said. Anders removed his clothing and pulled the leggings over his thighs, jamming the slippers on his feet and putting the robe on. The smooth texture tickled his skin and grabbed at the hair on his body. Jethann fussed and tugged the thin fabric down, adjusting it to look more flattering. 

“Take out the hair-tie.” Jethann ordered, and Anders tugged the thin leather cord out, his hair falling into his eyes. Jethann brushed the hair away with his fingers and frowned. “No, no, put it up. All of it.” He procured a silk tie of bright green from somewhere, seemingly by magic and tied Anders's hair up into a loose bun. Several strands fell out of the bun, clinging to his neck and hanging in his eyes. 

“Perfect.” Jethann declared. “Now go out there and get his attention, Healer. He won't be able to resist you.” 

Anders took a good look at himself in the ornate brass mirror. He looked decadent, yet approachable. The bathrobe clung to his frame, but hid how thin he was. His chest hair, while not nearly as impressive as Varric's, gleamed and curled nicely. He looked scruffier than his first night, but Jethann declared that his scruffiness was appealing. It made him look like he had just tumbled out of bed, and that one tug of his hair ribbon would cause his hair to tumble about his face in gorgeous golden waves. The robe barely covered the griffin tattoo over his heart, one outspread wing peeking out from under the flimsy fabric. Yes, he made for an appealing picture, Anders thought. Surely Fenris would find him attractive. That is, if Fenris bothered to come to the Rose tonight. 

He would, Anders was sure of it. He promised, and Anders never knew Fenris to break a promise, even one made to someone he disliked. He had promised to make sure Anders wasn't taken advantage of, and Anders was certain that Fenris's loyalty to Hawke would ensure that Fenris kept his word. But Anders feared being wrong about Fenris. Six sovereigns was no small sum. Could Fenris afford to constantly pay that price for a month? Guilt and shame warred in Anders's gut. If only he wasn't so impulsive, Fenris wouldn't feel obligated to pay for him at a brothel. If only he used his head instead of his heart and came up with another solution- 

**”What is done is done, Anders.”** Justice boomed in Anders's head. Anders sighed. Justice was right. All that could be done was live by his choices. And Fenris would have to make his own choices as well. Anders would find a way to make it up to him. He had to. Anders straightened his spine and met Jethann's eyes in the mirror. 

“I'm ready.” He declared, sounding more confident than he felt. The only thing he could do was go to the front and see what happened. All he could do was hope Fenris kept his word. 

-

Anders stood in front of the fireplace again. The light flickered over the silk he wore, the teal changing colors in its unsteady light. The flowers seemed to bloom on the fabric, the birds flew as he moved and shifted in front of the fire. He scanned the crowd again, dismissing everyone who walked in because it wasn't Fenris, not yet. Several patrons gave him a more than a passing look, but Anders ignored them. Fenris would show up, he just had to wait for him, he would be- there! There he was! Fenris entered the Rose quietly, slinking in soft and silent as a cat. His great green eyes scanned the room, and locked onto Anders. Anders's heart filled with warmth and pleasure. Fenris _did_ care under all that bluster. He showed up, and now he was walking towards Anders in that careful, quiet way of his, each step carefully considered before it was made. 

“I will pay Madame Lusine. Go upstairs, Anders.” Fenris ordered quietly once he was closer. His eyes focused on Anders's face and did not drop to look at the rest of his body or outfit. Anders was completely drawn in by Fenris's stern expression and bright green eyes. Even though he could secretly admit that he wore this more revealing outfit to appeal to Fenris and get his attention, Anders admired Fenris's politeness and respect. It made him feel important, wanted for something more than his appearance or healing abilities. Fenris was treating him like a _person_. Like equals. Anders couldn't help but love him for that. 

“You could at least try to chat me up, Fenris.” Anders joked. “Instead of marching in and giving orders.” Fenris's ears twitched slightly in response, and Anders thought he might have been blushing. It was hard to tell, though. The shadows hid much of Fenris's face and the subtleties of his expressions. 

“Please go upstairs, Anders.” Fenris amended. “I will take care of payments.” 

After a moment's hesitation (in which Anders fluttered his eyelashes at Fenris and tried to look as alluring as possible), Anders pulled himself away from the fire and sashayed past Fenris, taking care to deliberately brush past him and let Fenris feel the heat of his body, the coolness of the silk robe, catch a faint whiff of the rose scented soap he washed up with. 

“Don't keep me waiting, Fenris.” Anders murmured into Fenris's ear before he was gone, nimbly avoiding a few of the more drunk customer's grasping hands as he made his way across the room and up the stairs. Anders didn't dare look back, but he was certain Fenris was watching him leave. He entered his borrowed room, Erzsébet's room, and took note of what was there. 

This time Anders made sure to have food and wine set up at the table, with small treats that Anders hoped Fenris would like. The elf was a bit of a culinary snob, only drinking fine vintages of wine and refusing most food. But Anders was clever, and paid attention to everyone's diet. He was a healer, and it was important to track who ate what in case it affected his ability to take care of others. Anders noticed that Fenris had trouble eating sometimes, as if food was too rich or too much for his stomach. So Anders supplied simpler fare with the more elaborate snacks Lusine preferred for her customers. The madame provided two fancy Orlesian tea cakes, but Anders used his own coin (and a few owed favors) to purchase a loaf of bread, a few apples, a small jar of honey, and cold cut ham (not Orlesian). 

Justice mildly disapproved of Anders's purchases and his behavior, but Anders hushed him by telling him that he wanted to make sure Fenris ate properly, that he wanted to help Fenris take care of himself, that they must thank Fenris for doing so much to protect them. 

**”You have been entirely too vain lately, Anders.”** Justice grumbled. Anders rolled his eyes. Every act of grooming was considered an act of vanity by Justice. Anders engaged in fierce battle to make him understand how important cleanliness was, and Justice only relented when Anders pointed out the many health benefits of keeping clean and neat. But now that he was getting dolled up for a _job_ , Justice disapproved. 

**”It is not the work or its requirements I object to, Anders.”** Justice said, echoing in Anders's head. **”It is how you are carrying on over the lyrium elf.”** Fenris protected them, protected every single one of them, and he was deserving of Anders (and Justice's) regard. Who wouldn't love Fenris for his loyalty and courage? Fenris deserved so much more than what Anders could offer, but Anders was just selfish enough to try and woo him anyways. 

**”If he requires all this artifice to win him, he is not worth it.”** Justice declared, and Anders wondered how to best explain the differences between artifice and dressing up to seduce someone, but even Anders was unsure about the differences. But it didn't matter, he thought stubbornly. It didn't matter how he got there, so long as he earned Fenris's affections in the end. 

“The madame was particularly accommodating tonight.” Fenris remarked as he entered the room and shut the door behind him. “After she tested my coin's legitimacy.” 

“She runs a business.” Anders replied. “And there are plenty of people who try to cheat her and her workers.” 

“Clearly.” Fenris snorted, moving towards the fireplace, unbuckling his gauntlets and sword as he went. As Fenris reached his hands up to take off his chest plate, Anders stopped him. He stepped forward, into Fenris's space, his hands up and visible, palms out in a peaceful gesture. 

“Here, let me help.” Anders murmured, his fingers fumbling with the buckles holding the metal in place. Fenris held himself perfectly still, and Anders gently tugged the chest plate off. His fingers brushed against Fenris's bare skin, but it was Anders who shivered at the contact. 

“Sorry.” Anders whispered before setting the armor down on the same padded bench the gauntlets and sword rested on. Fenris shifted uneasily, and Anders was reminded of how little Fenris tolerated others touching him. He made Fenris uncomfortable, and Anders regretted it instantly. He resolved to be more careful with how he made his feelings known. 

“You look very nice tonight, Fenris.” Anders flirted, keeping his distance. Fenris did look nice, though Anders always thought the elf was attractive. But he was clean right now, scrubbed of dirt and blood and muck. His unruly white hair was neatly brushed, and he looked rather well rested for once. Fenris, however, scowled at him. 

“There is no need to lie, Anders.” Fenris scolded, his angry expression smoothing into something a bit softer, though still stern. “I am not paying you for compliments or favors. I am paying Madame Lusine a fee to ensure your safety. You owe me nothing, so do not lie to try and flatter me. You are safe and do not need to court my good opinion.” 

“I'm not lying!” Anders protested, but Fenris ignored him in favor of sitting at the table. He eyed the food in front of him suspiciously. 

“There was no food last time.” He said cautiously. Anders sighed loudly. Fenris was just determined to see everything as a lie, as a trick and a threat, and Anders would normally be more sympathetic if this Maker damned paranoia wasn't ruining his very important plans to seduce the elf and have a nice, tension relieving night that would (hopefully) extend beyond one night of pleasure. 

“I got it for you. You don't eat enough.” Anders retorted, knowing that he sounded like a petulant child. “So you better eat, since I went to all this trouble.” 

“Will the madame be angry?” Fenris asked. Anders thought he sounded concerned, but Anders also wondered if he was only hearing what he _wanted_ to hear. 

“The madame,” Anders drawled out, placing his palms flat on the table and leaning forward slightly, the robe hanging off his shoulders and letting Fenris see a good deal more of his chest than the the robe originally allowed. “The madame _encouraged_ me to provide a premier customer with all the necessary comforts. She supplied the traditional treats-” At this Anders gestured towards the Orlesian cakes. “And I brought some more standard fare.” Anders pointed to the fruit, ham, and bread. 

When Fenris kept staring, Anders began to feel a little uncomfortable. “If you don't want anything you don't have to eat, Fenris. I just wanted to thank you for... for helping me out.” Anders's shoulders slumped slightly. This was always his problem, he thought bitterly. He fell too fast, felt too much, then pressed too hard. This is why nothing lasted when he was involved- he pushed everyone away by clinging too tightly to his object of desire. But rejection still hurt, even though Anders was used to it. 

“I would have some bread. With honey.” Fenris said quietly. Anders looked up to meet Fenris's eyes, and his heart thumped wildly when Fenris's lips twitched into a brief but genuine smile. 

“Of course! Let me.” Anders replied, grabbing a knife to slice the bread and a smaller knife to spread the honey on the slice. He plated it and handed it over to Fenris. 

“Would you like some wine?” Anders asked, and Fenris nodded. Anders poured a goblet for Fenris and handed it over with a smile, a smile that Fenris returned. Anders sat down across from Fenris and took an apple for himself, practically vibrating with pleasure as Fenris slowly ate his food. 

“So how was your trip with Hawke?” Anders asked. Fenris snorted in disgust. 

“There were slavers and Tal-Vashoth. Hawke's mabari took out a slaver aiming for me.” Fenris placed his unfinished slice of bread on the plate and grabbed an apple from the bowl. He eagerly bit into the fruit and chewed slowly, eyes closed and a small smile on his face. Anders would plant a damn tree in the middle of the Maker cursed Gallows if it meant Fenris would eat apples as happily as he did now. 

“No one was hurt?” Anders asked once Fenris finished his apple. 

“It is nothing serious.” Fenris said, dodging the question. Anders frowned. Fenris was hiding something. He looked closer, beyond Fenris's neatly pressed clothing and handsome face. He observed the way Fenris held himself. He sat straight up, arms at his side, palms flat on the table. His left arm was held slightly out, and when he moved it his ears twitched as if he was in pain. He probably was. 

“Fenris, what happened?” Anders asked sternly. Fenris squirmed in his seat. 

“It was nothing.” Fenris muttered. “A lucky hit. Varric handled it.” 

“Fenris. What. Happened?” Anders asked again. 

“Blow to the side.” Fenris mumbled, and Anders cursed. Of course Fenris would shrug off his injuries- what if he made his injuries worse by moving about and ignoring it? Well, it would not have the opportunity to cause damage. Anders would put a stop to that. 

“On the bed. Now.” He ordered, and when Fenris gave him a sullen, rebellious glare. Anders glared right back. Fenris grumbled and protested, but he hoisted himself out of the chair and sat on the bed. His eyes glared up balefully at Anders, who ignored it. Healing was his life, and he would do his life's work. 

“Tunic off. I need to see the bruising.” Anders ordered, and when Fenris hesitated he barked out another order. “Now, Fenris!” 

“You sound concerned.” Fenris remarked as he tugged his dark tunic over his head. 

“Of course I'm- Maker's Breath, Fenris! How are you still standing?” Anders rushed to Fenris's side, horrified by the blotchy purple-blue-green bruises swelling on the left side of Fenris's torso. He had been whacked by some sort of giant cudgel. It had to be painful. Anders winced in sympathy as Fenris's muscles spasmed when he tried to move away. 

“I was... slow.” Fenris explained through gritted teeth. “It will go away, with time.” 

“Hold still. I need to check for fractures. Andraste's Tit's, Fenris, this is terrible!” Anders waited for Fenris's permission before he investigated the bruised area. When Fenris nodded his head, Anders lightly ran his fingers up and down Fenris's ribs, searching for cracks and fractures with each gentle press. He breathed a sigh of relief when he finished his examination and smiled up at Fenris. 

“No breaks, thank the Maker.” Anders murmured. “You need to ice it. If the swelling continues come to me. I'll give you a hot compress. Here, let me fix these pillows so you can lie down and relax-” 

“I have lived through worse, you need not pamper me.” Fenris grumbled, but Anders noticed how Fenris let himself be tucked up into bed. He must have been in terrible pain, to let his guard down and appear so vulnerable. While Anders found Fenris's strength and stoic drive to be some of his most admirable traits, he also found this more fragile, softer part of Fenris appealing. Perhaps what Anders liked most was that Fenris had opened himself up a little more, and let Anders glimpse a new part of who he was. 

Anders was determined to show Fenris that his trust in him was not misplaced. 

“Just because you've had worse doesn't mean it has to stay that way.” Anders said softly tucking a longer loose strand of hair behind his ear. “I'll give you some ice.” Anders crossed the room and cast a small cone of frost over the washbasin in the corner. The water inside froze. Anders retrieved a fork from the table and broke the ice up before tying up some of the smaller chunks in a ragged handkerchief. 

“Hold it to the bruised area. It will reduce swelling.” Anders explained. “Want your wine?” 

“Yes, please.” Fenris said, taking the bundle of ice and pressing it to the bruise. “Your fussing has given me a headache.” 

“Healer habit, hard to break.” Anders excused himself quickly. “Hungry? I'll get the food. Or tired? You can sleep, if you need-” 

“Anders. Stop fussing.” Fenris ordered. Anders took the wine goblet from the table and returned to Fenris's side. He offered the goblet, clear glass cut to look like crystal, to Fenris, who took it and sipped on the wine. 

“Perhaps I should provide the wine for these nights.” Fenris muttered as he grimaced, Anders shrugged and sat at the foot of the bed. The robe slipped off his shoulder, and Anders quickly tugged it back in place. It hadn't even gotten Fenris's attention anyhow, Anders thought glumly. Fenris hadn't even _looked_. 

“I bet the cakes are stale too.” Anders joked weakly. Fenris chuckled, which lifted Anders's spirits somewhat. At least he made him laugh, which was something. Fenris only laughed around Hawke. 

“I prefer your food choices, Anders.” Fenris replied with a smile, and Anders smiled back. They were both rather quiet, but it wasn't an awkward silence. Instead it was the quiet between friends, the type that was comforting. 

“Is there anything else you need?” Anders asked. Fenris shook his head, but a faint frown crossed his mouth and the furrow between his brow. 

“Perhaps... if it is not a trouble-” Fenris's frown deepened. “Fasta vass, this is humiliating.” Anders softened immediately in the face of Fenris's discomfort. 

“What is it?” Anders asked softly. 

“I have a book in my pack. We could... read it.” Fenris suggested, and Anders rushed to grab the book, a slim volume on Free Marcher history. A bit of a dry read, Anders thought, but it was practical. Seemed like something Fenris would read. He opened the book to the thin, water stained ribbon marker and offered it to Fenris. 

“Do you want to read, or should I?” Anders asked. 

“You could read it, if you wish.” Fenris offered, which Anders took to mean that Fenris wanted to be read to. Anders was pleased to comply. He cleared his throat and began to read, and Fenris listened to every word. So the night passed. 

-

 **”Anders, this is absurd.”** Justice grumbled, and Anders hushed him. It was not absurd, he was merely dressing for his job. It was _not_ absurd! 

“My my, Healer. You've got some legs on you.” Jethann whistled lowly. Cora, who was once again helping Anders with the kohl for his eyes, seemed to agree. She clucked her tongue, though. 

“Wasn't you tryin' to stay hidden, Healer? Keep the Templars away?” Cora asked as she brushed the kohl through his eyelashes. Anders tried not to roll his eyes or blink as Cora worked. 

“Dressing up helps me blend in, Cora. How's your uncle's shoulder doing?” 

“Just fine, Healer. Now hold still, I'm putting your hair up. It looked so lovely last time.” Cora tugged his hair into another loose bun, tying it up in a bright blue silk ribbon. 

“You look good in just about everything, Healer.” Jethann said as he approached Anders. “Stand up, you need the belt.” Anders stood and self-consciously smoothed the dark blue fabric of his skirt. 

He was surprised the skirt was long enough to fit him, though Jethann had to cinch the waist a little tighter so it would fit low on his hips. The skirt had two slits on either side, each one ending at the upper thigh. The skirt swirled around his legs, soft smooth fabric frothing around his calves like ocean waves. Anders changed his plain cotton small clothes into pretty, silken, sky blue ones. He didn't wear a shirt. The layers of necklaces, made of bronze and glass beads, covered his upper chest. Cora slapped on a pair of thick bronze arm bands over his biceps as Jethann slipped a thick leather belt with bronze studs and glass beads over his waist. 

“Perfection.” Jethann declared once he and Cora were done with their adjustments. “Come by and visit us after this business is done. Let us dress you up.” 

“I'll be a bit busy to do that.” Anders joked as he looked himself over in the tarnished mirror. He looked gorgeous, Anders knew it. The dark blue emphasized his pale skin, and the necklaces brought attention to his lean chest and toned stomach muscles. There were scars, of course, but in the dim light of the Rose no one would see them. _Fenris_ wouldn't see them and that, in Anders's mind, was all that really mattered. 

**”If he cannot accept your scars he is not worth the trouble.”** Justice said, and Anders once again ignored the irritated spirit. They were not pretty to look at, all his scars. The griffin tattoo covered most of the one on his chest, the horrific symbol of his and Justice's joining and how it saved them both. The others on his back were faded with age, but they were still deep. Still ugly. 

“He likes you very much, Healer. I'm sure of it.” Cora said sympathetically as she threaded a dangling earring into Anders's earlobe. 

“He's spent a good twelve sovereigns already, he clearly likes you.” Jethann added. “Chin up, Healer.” 

Anders kept his chin up as he took his place near the fire and smiled prettily at the customers. More of them leered openly, he fended off several grabbing hands, and flirted expertly as some customers tried to guess his price (his answer was “More than you can pay.”) When Lusine walked by on her rounds with her muscle-bound bodyguard behind her, she took him aside for a quick conversation. 

“Wait for that elf of yours.” She ordered. “But give the customers a show before you go.” 

“A show?” Anders asked, ignoring a drunk sailor who had been making suggestive, lewd hand gestures towards him. 

“Dance a bit on stage. You can dance, can't you?” Lusine sniffed at that. “They can't _all_ have you, but they can have a taste.” Lusine said it like it was a suggestion, but Anders knew an order when he heard it. 

“Find a musician, then.” Anders muttered, and made his way to a clear spot in the room. 

This was painful, horrible, and embarrassing, but it was what he had to do. The sound of lute strings drifted through the room, and Anders slowly wriggled his hips to the rhythm of the plucked notes. His let his hands rise with the beat. He turned, stretched, rolled his stomach and hips, tilted his head back, and closed his eyes. Don't think about people watching, Anders thought as he twisted around to the swell of the music. Don't think about the drunk crowds, the leers and jeers, the calculating gleam of Madame Lusine's eyes- Anders was back, back years ago in front of another fire, with only the darkness of the forest and the good natured gazes of his friends, his fellow Wardens, were on him as he danced about and celebrated being himself, being _free_ \- 

“Enough, Anders.” Someone murmured near his ear. Cold metal pricked at his elbow, little claw-like pricks on his skin. There was shouting, suggestions he strip his clothes and give them a real show, but Anders took no notice because Fenris was touching him, Fenris was finally _here_ \- 

“Come.” Fenris said in that low, sinfully beautiful voice, and Anders let himself be herded up the stairs. Either Lusine had been paid already, or she trusted Fenris to pay his coin. Anders didn't care either way, because Fenris's hand on his elbow was warm. 

Fenris did not let go of his arm until they were both upstairs in Erzsébet's room. The fire was going strong, the food Anders set out was still there on the table, and the empty goblets were there, waiting to be filled with the wine Fenris promised to bring. Fenris shut the door behind them and let go of Anders's elbow. 

“What were you _thinking_?” Fenris hissed like an angry cat. “You put yourself at risk, making such a scene! You were to stay hidden, not flaunt yourself!” 

“I work here, Fenris!” Anders said, offended that Fenris turned so quickly on him. Where was that kindness that Fenris showed him just moments before, the warmth and the care? “I'm working here until Erzsébet can work again-” 

“And you could have been bought before I arrived to protect you!” Fenris exclaimed loudly, cutting off Anders's explanation. “You could have been bought by a Templar, I saw how they were looking at you.” 

“And I can't disobey Lusine's orders, Fenris. I'm a worker!” Anders was angry at Fenris's anger, and frightened by his words. What if Fenris wasn't there? Even with Lusine's power, would she dare stand between a Templar and what they wanted? Anders hoped she would, but he was certain she wouldn't. 

“I will not have you abused if it can be prevented. If I can prevent it.” Fenris said coldly. “But you make it difficult when you refuse to be careful.” 

“I don't have a choice, Fenris! Either I work or Erzsébet and her family starves!” Anders retorted. “No matter how careful I am I am always in danger! At least here I have people protecting me, they don't know what I am, I'm safe here!” And really, that was what truly upset Anders the most. That no matter what he did, no matter the good he did in the world, he was safest in a whorehouse where the customers just thought he was one of the workers. Where the Templars would never think to find a mage. He always ended up hiding in a brothel for safety. 

“Anders-” 

“At least when I'm a whore the Templars won't lock me up when they're done with me!” Anders shouted. “At least I get _paid_ for it!” He started to pace, gesticulating wildly. “I should just be a prostitute, the pay's good and it's all I'm good for in society! No one wants a mage healer unless they're desperate! Why bother trying to be good? Why try at all?” Anders could feel himself tearing up, his throat thick and hot with heavy tears. Don't cry, he thought stubbornly to himself. Don't fucking cry or you won't be able to stop! 

Something warm and soft, plush and comforting, fell across his shoulders and back. Anders opened his eyes and took in the crimson coverlet now draped over his shoulders. Fenris's hands, bare and slender against the bright fabric, tugged the blanket in place. Fenris wordlessly sat Anders down on the foot of the bed, arranging the blanket until Anders was wrapped up in a warm cocoon of fabric. 

“You are worth more than this, Anders.” Fenris said, his rough voice tinged with a kindness that Anders hoped was real. “You deserve more.” He sounded so certain, so _sure_ , and Anders wanted to believe Fenris was capable of being so kind to him. He pulled the blanket around himself tighter. 

“Sorry.” Anders sighed heavily. “I... I didn't mean to get so dramatic.” He hadn't meant to be dramatic at all- but Fenris got angry and then Anders got angry and bitter and upset. Then it all tumbled out before he could control himself. 

“I'm better now.” Anders said, straightening his shoulders. He was better now, though he knew that he ruined the mood before the night even started. Another seduction plan ruined, and once again Fenris only scolded him for his appearance and behavior. 

“You should rest.” Fenris murmured. “You are tired.” Anders did not struggle as Fenris removed the necklaces and earring, the bracelets and belt, and tucked Anders under the covers. He _was_ tired, so tired. The idea of rest, of sleep, sounded more and more appealing every moment. Finally snuggled in the blanket, Anders blinked his weary eyes open and took in Fenris, who had pulled an armchair towards the fireplace, set up to watch the door. 

“How are your injuries?” Anders asked sleepily. Fenris jolted a bit in his seat. 

“They are healing.” Fenris replied after a moment's silence. “The compress helped.” 

“I'm glad.” Anders was glad, extremely so. Fenris looked far more comfortable than he did last week, moving with his customary grace. 

“I am surprised you did not use magic to fix it.” Fenris remarked casually. 

“You don't like magic being used on you.” Anders pointed out. “I'm not going to force it on you if there are other options, Fenris.” 

“That is... very thoughtful.” Fenris said hesitantly. 

“Mmmhmmm.” Anders hummed. “I'll nap for an hour. Wake me up, we can eat the food and discuss Hawke's latest mad adventure. Did you know he wants to take us to the Bone Pit tomorrow? The _Bone Pit_!” Anders shivered with disgust, eager to speak of something a little less personal. He felt raw, disturbed by how easily he fell apart in front of Fenris, and how natural it felt to let the elf comfort him. Perhaps it was because Fenris was kind to him, and Anders wanted to dive headlong into that kindness and let Fenris care for him. Whatever it was, Anders was a bit frightened by it. 

“Rest, Anders.” Fenris murmured. “I will wake you in an hour.” 

Anders let himself fall asleep knowing that Fenris would keep him safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everybody who has read, left comments, left kudos, and/or bookmarked this work! Thank you very much!


	3. Chapter 3

This was it, Anders thought grimly as he adjusted the low neckline of bodice. Either this would work or nothing would. He literally had tried everything. He dressed seductively, danced his spicy shimmy, flirted every chance he got, was incredibly attentive at _both_ the Rose and on their adventures with Hawke. He made sure Fenris ate, made sure he slept, gave him the best bits of food at camps, and first dibs on healing and medicine. Fenris kept looking at him like he was behaving strangely, like there was something wrong, but after that night in the Rose Fenris kept _touching_ him. Not that Anders minded, of course. Quite the contrary. But Fenris's touches were always so... so appropriate! Nothing even slightly naughty, and nothing Anders did could tempt Fenris into behaving a little more untoward. Fenris pulled blankets around Anders's shoulders when they camped out. Fenris clasped Anders's hand to hoist him up when a bandit flattened him on his arse. Fenris fussed over him when he stumbled into the Hanged Man for Wicked Grace after a day of healing. Anders knew that Fenris cared, but Fenris wouldn't _do_ anything! 

So Anders had to do it himself. And this time he would not fail. 

“Healer, are you certain about this?” Jethann asked. It was the first time that Jethann seemed hesitant about Anders's clothing choices. But it was his last night at the Rose, and Anders was willing to try anything to get Fenris to touch him, to want him, to kiss and more than kiss. 

“Tighten the laces more.” Anders said, dropping the silk robe he hastily shrugged on when Cora fixed his makeup. Jethann sighed and moved around to Anders's back, pulling at the laces of the corset Anders put on. Once again Anders was impressed by the sheer amount of clothing Madame Lusine had on hand that fit him. The corset was made of wine colored silk embroidered with small golden accents along the top and bottom. It had a high neck that dropped low, exposing his throat and chest, while the extra fabric completely covered his scarred back. The golden lace that ruffled at the front barely covered his nipples. Jethann tugged the laces tighter, and Anders's back instinctively straightened. 

“Better?” Jethann asked once he finished tying up the laces. 

“Better.” Anders agreed. He bent at the hips so he could adjust his black stockings and the lacy garters that held them up at his thighs. He shoved his large feet into a pair of heeled boots a size too small, wincing as the shoes pinched his toes. Bear with it, Anders chanted in his head. Bear with it for now, you won't have to wear it for long. 

**”I refuse to comment on this madness.”** Justice grumbled before retreating back into the corner of Anders's mind. 

“You're certain about the skirt, Healer? This will draw plenty of attention.” Jethann asked as he adjusted the bustle skirt Anders wore. It matched the corset's color and texture. The fabric fell gracefully to the floor in a short train. The front of the skirt was shorter, ending at Anders's mid thigh just below the garters. If he sat down, the skirt would ride up just enough for the garters to be seen. Anders paraded in front of the mirror before he tied his hair back in a high bun with a golden ribbon, letting some strands fall loose around his eyes and neck. He had shaved his beard again, and Anders knew he looked pretty. Fenris wouldn't be able to _resist_ him this time. 

“It's not too long, Jethann?” Anders asked as he walked across the room, the skirt rustling as he moved. He did not want to trip as he tried to put the moves on Fenris, and even at his height and with the heels, the fabric dragged on the wooden floors. 

“Healer, it's perfection on you.” Jethann reassured Anders. “Either the man has nerves of steel or none at all.” 

“I hope it's the first one.” Anders muttered darkly, though he was slightly surprised by the thrum of what felt like grudging approval from Justice. What was with him today? Anders mentally poked at the spirit, seeking answers from him. 

**”If he is attracted to you, the elf has admirable self-restraint.”** Justice stated reluctantly before retreating again. He went quiet on these nights, and without Justice shouting about the indignities of sex work Anders found that he could _think_ for the first time in ages. 

“Jethann, you don't think the small clothes are too much, do you?” Anders asked. The small garment matched the corset and bustle skirt, but it felt so... so indecent! But nothing else had seduced Fenris yet, and he looked excellent in this costume, so Anders would try it tonight, his last night at the Rose. Despite the shoes that pinched his feet and how the corset pressed against his ribs, Anders felt gorgeous and desirable. 

“No, of course not.” Jethann said soothingly. “And you didn't see the way he looks at you, Healer. That glowing ball of rage is utterly smitten.” Jethann smiled and patted Anders's shoulder. “Go out there and knock them dead!” 

-

Anders turned down more offers from drunken sailors and slumming nobles, from prostitutes looking for a third to round out their customers to bawdy requests that he perform another song and dance for the clientele. Madame Lusine frowned at him and made a gesture with her hands that Anders interpreted to mean “Wait for that elf, boy!” Anders was more than happy to oblige her, though he flirted with customers and cleverly evaded their requests by recommending other workers (Jethann would thank him later, he was giving him plenty of work and money). 

“You're a nice cool drink on a long hot day.” A voice drawled at Anders's left, and Anders scoffed, turning to lambast the person who would use such an _awful_ pick-up line on him when he was clearly busy- 

His eyes met the blazing symbol of Andraste's fucking flaming sword and his blood turned to ice. Templars. _Fuck_! 

“A pretty thing like you must cost a few sovereigns.” The Templar said with a smile that was meant to be playful but came out as predatory, and not in a flattering way. Anders felt Justice shift uneasily in his head, his concern over Anders's discomfort and personal grudges against Templars rousing him from his state of semi-slumber. Please don't react, Justice, I can handle this, Anders frantically communicated to the spirit. Justice retreated, but remained alert and wary. 

**“A Templar would find joy in taking advantage of those who have no choices.”** Justice muttered, and while Anders completely agreed with the statement he also needed Justice to shut up because now was _not_ the time! 

“Not much for talking, are you?” The Templar remarked, and Anders saw that the man was attractive enough, young and tall with big muscles, brown hair, and decent enough features. But all he could think of was that symbol and every Templar who ever hurt him. Plenty of them had been attractive too, but beautiful faces did not mean a beautiful heart. 

“Eh, no matter. Come here, you can sit with me and I'll get you a drink.” The Templar grinned, no, _leered_ , and put one gloved, gauntleted hand around Anders's waist. The metal was cold and heavy on Anders's hips. “You can even sit on my lap.” 

When Fenris grabbed him it felt different, more respectful. Anders could pull away at any time and he knew Fenris would have accepted it without complaint. But this Templar... he clearly didn't care. Or didn't think Anders would refuse him. Either one was bad enough. Anders frowned and pulled off the offending hand encircling his waist, pushing the Templar slightly away from him. The Templar wobbled slightly, and Anders caught the reeking stench of alcohol. Someone had been drinking, and drinking heavily. 

“I happen to be working, young Ser.” Anders said in an overly-sweet tone to keep Justice from reacting. The spirit was bristling from the unwanted touch on Anders's body, on _their_ body. “There are several other clients you could speak to about a drink, and I can recommend a few workers to better fit your fancy.” 

“I like older men.” The Templar said frankly. “Especially older men as pretty as you are.” 

“Still can't drink with you, I'm making the rounds.” Anders said hastily. Where was Fenris? Fenris said he'd be here, told him so yesterday when they were with Hawke during their hike back from the Maker damned base of Sundermount. Fenris had waited until they were far enough from Hawke and Varric before he murmured that he would see him tomorrow and to not draw unwanted attention. A little late for that, Anders thought bitterly. 

“I've got a corner table, gorgeous, and it'll only be a little bit.” The Templar flirted again, once again reaching over to grab Anders's waist. 

“I _said_ no, Ser.” Anders said as he swerved slightly to avoid the Templar's grasping hands. Maker, his feet ached, but Anders still moved quickly. His skirt rustled as he moved to the side. 

“Playing coy, are you?” The Templar said, ignoring Anders and his protestations as he grabbed Anders's wrist in one gauntlet. “C'mere.” 

Anders shut his eyes and silently prayed to any god who happened to be listening. “By Andraste's Bountiful Bosom, if I get out of this I'll leave whatever offerings you want at your altar, I swear.” “He is uninterested in your advances, Templar. Leave him be.” A familiar voice said, and Anders breathed a grateful sigh of relief when he opened his eyes and saw Fenris standing beside him. Fenris plucked the Templar's hand off his wrist and maneuvered them around so Anders was hidden behind Fenris's slender frame. 

Even though the Templar loomed above Fenris, Anders wasn't worried. This was a young Templar, clearly drunk, whose movements were clumsy and untrained. Fenris was sober and one of the best warriors Anders ever met. Even when Anders compared him to his fellow Warden companions, Fenris was still a marvel of a fighter. He had the raw physical strength, certainly, but Anders also recognized Fenris's cunning and talent. Fenris could probably best most warriors with little trouble. One drunk Templar was no contest. But more than his physical prowess and mental skill, Anders was relieved that Fenris had come to protect him. 

“None of your business, elf.” The Templar said snidely, irritated by Fenris's interference. “You go and get your own. Plenty of fish in the barrel.” 

“And this one is not interested in you.” Fenris said, creating more distance between the Templar and Anders. “Go sit and tend to your drink.” 

“Now listen here, you-” 

“Is there a problem, Ser Richard?” Madame Lusine asked crisply, her bodyguard lurking behind her threateningly. “I believe I told you that you cannot proposition my workers until you pay your tab. We wouldn't want Frederic here to let your indiscretions slip in front of the Knight-Captain, would we?” 

“Maker, that hard-ass?” The Templar, Richard, winced at the very mention of Knight-Captain Cullen. “No thank you, it'll be daily regimens and Chantry verses for two weeks if you tell him!” 

“So you'll leave my workers alone and pay your debts?” Lusine pressed, and Richard hung his head and nodded mutely. “Good. Go upstairs with the elf, dear, he's paid for the night. Frederic, I believe you and Ser Richard should exchange a few words about our payment policies. I do not extend the Rose's favors for credit. We expect coin.” She regally swanned away to her giant ledger at the front desk. Anders and Fenris passed it as they headed upstairs, and Anders whispered a grateful “Thank you.” to the madame. She blinked her icy eyes at him, her expression one of vague surprise. 

“He has been costing me money for the past fortnight. I was grateful for the excuse to set him straight. Some of the younger girls are stupid enough to be swayed by a handsome face and smooth talk, but I am no such fool.” Lusine sniffed. “Upstairs, the both of you!” 

When Anders finally shut the door and bolted it shut, he breathed a sigh of relief. That was close, entirely _too_ close, and he dreaded turning around to hear Fenris's scolding. And there would be scolding, Anders thought glumly. Scolding and plenty of scoffing, and Fenris would be a perfect gentleman as always and wouldn't even look at him, let alone touch him! Something heavy and familiar dropped around his shoulders, and feathers tickled his cheeks. Anders opened his eyes and found that Fenris had handed Anders his jacket. Anders turned around, but Fenris was already across the room, stoking the fire and feeding it bits of kindling. 

“You looked cold.” Fenris said gruffly. Anders thought he was blushing, but the light was bad. It was probably only his fanciful imagination anyhow, Anders thought sadly. He moved away from the door before collapsing in one of the chairs in front of the fire, which seemed to startle Fenris. 

“Not cold. Upset and a bit frightened, yes, but not cold.” Anders said wearily. “And my feet are killing me. There weren't any shoes my size that go with this outfit.” Anders bent over to unlace the boots, but Fenris stopped him. 

“I will unlace them.” He said, and his nimble fingers quickly unlaced the boots and tugged them off Anders's feet. Anders sighed in relief and wiggled his toes. Fenris moved the boots to a spot near the bed, but then dragged a chair over so he could sit across from Anders. 

“Thank you, Fenris.” Anders said once Fenris sat down. The elf flushed, and Anders wondered if anyone ever thanked Fenris before. He seemed unused to genuine gratitude. 

“It was nothing.” Fenris mumbled as he took off his gauntlets. “I apologize for being late.” 

“You rescued me from a Templar.” Anders pointed out. “That is worth something.” 

“I did not believe you when you said they are relentless.” Fenris confessed. “I see I was wrong.” 

“Oh, that one was drunk and obnoxious. Not dangerous yet, just annoying.” Anders said airily, ignoring Justice's indignant disagreement. He knew the dangerous ones, and Ser Richard was little more than an overeager pup. “I'm glad you were there, Fenris. It was a bit frightening.” Now in the relative safety of this bedroom, away from the main floor and other people, Anders could confess how scared he had been. 

“I didn't know what I could do to stop him. I was going to draw attention to myself, get help, but I was scared that Justice might- he wanted to protect me so I was afraid-” Anders shook his head. “I'm glad you showed up when you did.” 

“Does your... spirit... take control often?” Fenris asked hesitantly. His words were barely audible over the crackling fire. Anders sighed. 

“No. Justice doesn't- all he wants to do is help.” Anders struggled to find the right words. “But that Templar frightened me, and then Justice wanted to stop him from hurting me. He didn't take control, but he might have if we were attacked, or if I froze up and couldn't do anything.” 

“He would not attack our companions, then.” Fenris said. “Hawke, or Isabela, or the blood witch.” 

“No.” Anders said. “He wouldn't hurt you either. You saved us, we owe you-” 

“There are no debts between us.” Fenris said hastily. 

“I owe you at least twenty four sovereigns, Fenris.” Anders pointed out. 

“You owe me nothing.” Fenris insisted, and Anders felt a large swell of gratitude and joy and pride pulsing through him, an almost overwhelming wave of emotion, and Anders knew that some of those feelings were Justice's. 

“I don't know.” Anders gave Fenris a small smile and scooted his chair closer to Fenris's. “Maybe I _like_ the idea of owing you.” When Fenris didn't answer him, only giving him a quizzical look, Anders continued. 

“I used to have this fantasy, back in the Circle.” Anders confessed. “I'd be surrounded by Templars, completely helpless. Just before I'm punished, someone swoops in and rescues me. And I'd just be so grateful, you see, I'd have to thank them properly.” 

“And then?” Fenris asked softly. Anders looked carefully at Fenris. He seemed disinterested, sitting away from Anders, gazing into the fire, but Anders looked closer and saw more than most. Fenris's ears were twitching, the tips a deep rose color. He was hiding his eyes under his hair, but Anders saw that he was looking at Anders, _really_ looking at him. Anders straightened up in his chair, feeling more confident than he had in some time. Fenris was looking at him, looked interested in what Anders had to say. 

“Then we'd get on their horse and ride off. Or battle nug. Maybe a tiger. A really big tiger.” Anders continued after a small laugh. “We'd travel the world. Gather an army of cats, maybe pick up an orphan or two, and find a nice farm where we could settle down.” 

“That is... a nice fantasy.” Fenris confessed shyly. Anders scooted the chair closer, his knees gently bumping against Fenris's. When Fenris looked up, surprise clear in his eyes, Anders gently took his hands in his own. Fenris's hands were warm. Interesting callouses lined his fingers and palms, callouses that revealed his many dedicated years of sword work. 

“It doesn't have to be a fantasy.” Anders said firmly. 

“Anders-” 

“It might not have been the Gallows but, well, there was a Templar, and all those times before that, and you've been so kind to me-” Anders shook his head. “Fenris, it's been such a long time since anyone has cared for me.” 

“Anders, no.” Fenris said firmly, but he held onto Anders's hands. “Anders, you are not, this is not what you want.” 

“I think I know what I want, Fenris.” Anders replied heatedly. 

“You are confused, it is not-” Fenris sighed deeply, still holding Anders's hands in his own. “Anders, I will not have you like this. Not when I am your customer and you are at my mercy.” 

“Oh.” Anders's shoulders slumped at the rejection, but then he went over the words again. Not like this... “So, if this were another time...” 

“Another time, where we are not here. When we are equals.” Fenris said firmly. “If it were that, I would... fasta vass, Anders, this is not easy for me!” 

“And you think it's easy for me? Andraste's Arse, Fenris, I've been trying to woo you for the past month, but you haven't even looked, and to know that- Maker, Fenris, why didn't you say anything?” Anders wanted to pace the room, but that meant letting go of Fenris's hands. When he looked at Fenris he saw that Fenris looked fragile, even scared. So Anders held on instead and gave Fenris a smile. 

“I'm scared too, Fenris. But I need to know what you're feeling.” Anders murmured, running this thumb over Fenris's knuckles. For his part Fenris looked confused, but he held onto Anders's hands. “I want to help you.” 

“Anders, it is not- I know what it is to be helpless.” Fenris replied softly. “I would not do that to you. I would have you as yourself. Not this... this artifice.” 

“Artifice?” Anders asked. “Fenris, it's just a costume.” 

“A costume that reminds me what our places are! A costume that tells me you are with me against your will! A costume that makes me-” Fenris stopped talked, gripping Anders's hands tightly. 

“Makes you?” 

“Makes me want.” Fenris confessed, his expression full of shame and self-loathing. “It makes me want when I should not. It was never your- it is not fair to you.” 

Anders sat back, his mind reeling from Fenris's confession. “So the only reason you haven't tried anything,” He finally said when he could move his mouth and form words, “Is that you felt it was unfair to woo me when you bought time with me as a prostitute?” When Fenris only silently nodded his head to confirm Anders's question, Anders felt pride and affection swell in his heart. 

**”He is worthy.”** Justice declared, and Anders agreed completely. 

“So, you do like the outfits, right?” Anders asked shyly. “Because I wore them for you.” 

“The costumes are enticing, but I prefer you this way. I would not forget who you are.” Fenris murmured, reaching out to brush Anders's hair out of his eyes. He retracted his fingers at the last instant, his eyes so clearly wanting but also so hesitant, so _afraid_. And even though Anders had never been brave before, for Fenris he would try. 

“You never have.” Anders murmured. “No one has treated me as you do.” Anders thought of the way that Fenris always looked him in the eye, how he didn't ogle at his outfits once he learned why Anders was at the Rose, how he protected him without question , how he was strong but still kind, still struggled and tried to be good. Fenris was a miracle of a man, and Anders loved him for it. 

“Your kindness can be infuriating.” Fenris replied, keeping his voice soft. “You are too stubborn and proud. And you are reckless. You give so much of yourself, Anders. Have you ever taken something just for you?” 

“Once. That was a younger, more foolish man.” Anders confessed, thinking of his youth, of escaping the Circles, of being selfish and carefree. Those days were far behind him, and he was older and wiser now. “But this is... I want this. You.” 

“You say that because you think you owe me.” Fenris said glumly. 

“I say it because it's true.” Anders insisted. “Fenris, you protected me, and I'm grateful, but I do not owe you for behaving like a decent living, thinking being. I like you because you're kind and have a dry sense of humor and you're brilliant, and you treat me like a person, Fenris. You always have.” 

“I have been unfair to you.” Fenris said. He looked so small, and Anders just wanted to hold him close and comfort him. 

“You have been honest, like you are with everyone. You're harsh, Fenris, but you aren't cruel.” Anders said, trying to soothe the elf. 

“Anders, you are making it difficult to resist.” Fenris warned, though he leaned forward in his chair, as if he wanted closer to Anders. 

“I don't want you to, Fenris.” Anders insisted. Fenris's ears twitched, his pupils widened, his breath quickened. “I want to try and see what we could be.” The attraction was there, and Anders wanted to explore it. But Fenris pulled his hands away from Anders's and stood up. Fenris started pacing from the chairs by the fire to the foot of the bed, back and forth. His hands twitched in agitation. 

“Anders, you are asking for something that I have no experience in.” Fenris said, his hands moving as he expressed his emotions. “I do not know how to be a partner. Not in this.” Anders stood up then, stretching out his legs. He padded over to Fenris and took his hands, stilling the frantic movements with his grip. Fenris quieted at once, unconsciously leaning into Anders. 

“Maybe that's something I can help you with.” Anders replied, reaching an arm over to pull Fenris to him. Fenris did not resist, and Anders marveled at how small Fenris was in his arms. Not fragile, never fragile, but still small. Fenris relaxed by inches, one little adjustment and another, then one final deep shudder and the elf melted into Anders's arms, almost like an attention starved stray. Anders smiled and pressed his lips to Fenris's, and it was soft and warm and felt like coming _home_. 

“Come to my home tomorrow.” Fenris eventually mumbled as he pulled himself away. “We will... discuss this further.” Anders hummed in agreement, though he leaned down to peck Fenris on lips once more. 

“In the meantime, why don't we have something to eat and talk about our days?” Anders suggested. He took Fenris's hand, and was pleased when Fenris let himself be led to his seat. 

-

Anders took a deep breath and knocked on Fenris's door. It was evening in Kirkwall. The spring air was clean and cool, nothing like the stale, musty, hot air of Darktown. Anders shifted his booted feet uneasily on the cobblestone and wondered if he was dressed appropriately. After Fenris's conversation yesterday evening, Anders felt a bit shy about his appearance. At the Rose he was pampered and groomed until he was immaculate, but now he was his shabby, ordinary self, as scarred and tired and old as ever. Fenris said he preferred him in his natural state, Anders tried to tell himself, but he was not convinced. Who would want him this way when they had seen him at his best? At least his clothes were clean, he consoled himself, and he washed up before he walked up to Hightown. 

Anders was about to knock on the door again when it swung open and suddenly Fenris stood on the doorstep. His great green eyes widened in surprise before his lips spasmed in a brief expression of pleasure that Anders couldn't help but return. Despite Anders's self-consciousness and drab appearance, Fenris seemed pleased to see him. 

“Anders. Come in.” Fenris gestured, stepping aside to usher Anders inside the mansion. Anders lightly stepped up the step and let Fenris shut the door behind him. Anders glanced around the mansion, sort of surprised by the interior. It was still falling apart, filled with dust and mold and broken furnishings, but the bodies... did Fenris move the bodies? 

“That corpse wasn't there a few weeks ago.” Anders said hesitantly, and Fenris shrugged in response. 

“They aren't truly corpses. I dressed practice dummies in old armor. They stink less and I can move them around.” Fenris said as he stepped over one body to climb up the stairs. Anders paused to get a better look at the dummy and, true to Fenris's word, underneath the helmet and rotting leather armor it really was just moldy straw. 

“I didn't bring food, ran out of time.” Anders said as they walked up the steps and entered Fenris's room. He pulled up in the doorway, shocked by the cleanliness of the room. This was Fenris's hideaway? Anders was surprised by how cozy the entire arrangement was. There was a fire in the fireplace, a nest of blankets and pillows on what appeared to be a very comfortable bed, and two chairs pulled up by the fire. There was wine on a low table next to the chairs, and someone (obviously Fenris) had brought some food, fruit, bread, and a hunk of cheese. There was a hole in the roof, yes, but it didn't detract from the comfort and peaceful atmosphere of this room. Fenris's little sanctuary. 

“This is nice.” Anders remarked. “You've made it cozy here, Fenris.” 

“I am considering repairing the roof.” Fenris confessed. “But it may draw unnecessary attention.” Fenris shifted back and forth on his feet, and Anders noticed that Fenris was not only completely divested of his armor, but was wearing a very lovely deep green tunic made of some soft fabric. A fine linen or cotton, perhaps? His hair was brushed and gleamed in the firelight, and Anders thought he smelled some kind of fancy soap that smelled like pine. 

“That... could be a problem.” Anders murmured, scooting closer to Fenris. “But I don't mind the hole. Seeing the sky must be...nice.” 

“It is.” Fenris looked up, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of Anders's eyes. “I like your hair like this.” 

“I always wear it this way.” Anders teased. “It's a mess. _I'm_ a mess.” 

“No, you are handsome.” Fenris corrected with a small smile as he took Anders's hand, and Anders couldn't help but lean down and give Fenris a quick kiss. Fenris, for his part, gripped Anders's waist, his hands wandering down to grope the curve of Anders's arse, his touch firm but not hard. Anders groaned and pressed himself closer, and Fenris suddenly _moved_ and they were tumbling onto the bed and fallen among the sheets and blankets and soft pillows. Anders scrambled back so he lay more firmly on the pillows, and Fenris clambered over him, straddling his waist and tugging at Anders's hair-tie. The leather cord fell away and Fenris began to comb through the hair with his finger. 

“You look perfect.” Fenris murmured as he combed Anders's hair and laved kisses on Anders's neck. Anders tilted his head back and let Fenris do as he pleased. “So perfect.” 

“I'm covered in sweat and grime from the sewers and Darktown. My clothing's worn to threads, and you can see all my scars and wrinkles.” Anders laughed a bit though, giddy from Fenris's touch. Who would have thought that a simple touch would affect him so much? Fenris stroked a simple line down Anders's neck, and Anders shivered. It felt _perfect_. “You have an odd definition of perfection, Fenris, considering that I was dressed perfectly while at the Rose.” 

“You were not mine to have at the Rose.” Fenris stated boldly before returning his attention to Anders's collarbones. “Jacket off.” 

“You seem to like my jacket.” Anders teased, sitting up to wiggle out of his modified mage robes. Fenris snorted at that comment as he straddled Anders's thighs. Anders's pants grew tighter as Fenris's hardened cock pressed against his own erection. The friction was delightful. 

“It reminds me that you are free. That you came here freely.” Fenris said, tossing the jacket aside and removing Anders's shirt. “I have desired this for some time.” Fenris's clever, calloused fingers lightly traced Anders's chest, brushing across his chest hair before he dragged his blunt fingernails over Anders's nipple. 

“Thank Andraste's Tits for that!” Anders managed to breath out before grabbing the bottom edge of Fenris's new tunic and tugging up. Fenris immediately stiffened, a worried expression crossing his face before his customary neutral expression took its place. “Fenris? Fenris, what's-” 

“I did not think you would wish to see me like this.” Fenris confessed softly, his voice trembling slightly. “It is... there are scars, Anders.” 

“Same with me, Fenris.” Anders assured the elf. “But if you want to keep your tunic on-” 

“It's not fair to you, that I am holding back. Holding _myself_ back.” Fenris replied, but he was anxious. Anders did not want to cause Fenris anxiety, not in this. Especially in this. 

“I'd rather you be comfortable.” Anders insisted, letting go of the edge of Fenris's tunic. After a moment, Fenris took Anders's hands and placed them on his hips. 

“I will keep my tunic on. But you may remove my leggings.” A thrill shot up Anders's spine, and he immediately set about on fulfilling Fenris's command. He worked the leather over Fenris's smooth, muscled thighs, stroking the flesh as he went, avoiding the lyrium lines and reveling in Fenris's small shudders and gasps of pleasure. Anders was even more delighted by another discovery once he tugged the leggings off and tossed them away to join his jacket on the floor. 

“Fenris, you cheeky minx, you're not wearing small clothes!” Anders proclaimed, and Fenris merely smirked as he tugged at Anders's pants. Anders obediently lay down and raised his hips slightly to let Fenris tug the pants down. Fenris's hands did not move, and Anders whined. 

“Shall I have you remove your boots, or shall I merely rip these apart?” Fenris asked in that low, sinful voice of his, and Anders didn't know what was better. Fenris lightly cupped Anders's cock from the outside of his pants and squeezed, and Anders groaned, throwing an arm across his eyes. 

“Just take them off!” Anders begged, and with a tear of fabric and rush of cool air on Anders's legs, the pants were gone. Anders lowered his arm to take in Fenris's dark, wide-eyed, lusty gaze. 

“Your smalls.” Fenris's voice had gone lower, a hoarse sort of choking, surprised groan escaping his throat as he gaped. Anders smirked weakly. 

“So I might have liberated some of my favorite pieces from the Rose.” Anders joked, though Jethann was the one who gifted him with this set. He claimed that the dark green silk would look divine against his milky thighs. Anders accepted them because they were the color of Fenris's eyes. Fenris stared at the smalls, then raised his gaze up to meet Anders's. 

Fenris moved with a speed that Anders only saw in battle. He pinned Anders to the bed, rolling his hips and nipping at Anders's earlobe, kissing his neck, licking his collarbone. Anders turned into a whimpering mass of a mage, wriggling about and trying to respond to Fenris's attentions as he melted under Fenris's touch. Words were beyond them at this point, save for muttered “Pleases” and “Yes” and “Oh Maker there, Fenris, yes!” Occasionally Fenris muttered something incomprehensible in Tevene, though Anders caught a few of the words. He flushed brightly when Fenris buried his oiled fingers inside him and murmured soothing, sing-song words, punctuated by the word “Amatus.” 

And when Fenris entered him, Anders swore he saw stars. He released while holding Fenris's hand, and came to with Fenris dropping kisses on his face like summer raindrops. Anders gladly returned those kisses. 

“So you like them?” Anders asked smugly as they lay back on the bed. Fenris rolled his eyes and fed Anders a grape. Anders carefully licked at Fenris's fingertips before chewing on the grape. 

“They... are nice.” Fenris said casually. He leaned over Anders's thighs to grab the wine bottle. He popped the cork open and sipped the wine before offering the bottle to Anders. Anders took it and drank. 

“You didn't seem to like my outfits at the Rose. Never looked.” Anders teased, enjoying the great thrill it brought him to watch Fenris's cheeks and ears go bright red. 

“I did not _ogle_.” Fenris said with an arrogant sort of sniff, as if ogling was an act performed by lesser beings. “I _noticed_ , certainly, but there was no ogling.” 

“So you liked them? Which ones in particular?” Anders pressed, and Fenris groaned. 

“You are planning something.” Fenris stated, and while Anders did not respond he curled up around Fenris, throwing an arm over Fenris's still clothed torso. He set the wine bottle on the floor and grinned to himself. He had many, many surprises in store for Fenris. 

Anders was warm and comfortable, tucked into bed with his considerate, handsome lover. Anders was fully at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with this story and reading it! A quick question, though. Would anyone be interested in a Fenris POV extra chapter?
> 
> Edit: Seems like there's a lot of interest! Time to crank out that extra chapter! I'm glad everyone enjoyed this story, the prompt was just so good!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little later than I wanted, but here's a quick chapter from Fenris's point of view.

Fenris went to the Rose for information and alcohol that did not taste like watery piss. He never solicited prostitutes when he visited, even though he had to endure Isabela's bawdy suggestions every time their visits coincided. Despite the teasing, Fenris never relented. He would not sleep with any of the madame's workers. They had no choice if they wanted to reject him or not. If Fenris paid the coin, he controlled them, and the thought made Fenris sick. So he bought his bottle of wine, sat in the corner of the main floor, and kept an ear open for news about slavers, Tevinter, and the activities of a magister named Danarius. He rarely ran into anyone he knew, save for Isabela, but even Isabela had been a less frequent visitor to the brothel as of late. Fenris felt comfortable in the Rose, drinking and listening to rumors. His presence was mostly ignored, and he was perfectly content to sit back and gather information as he was accustomed to doing. 

Fenris was quite surprised, then, when one night he arrived and spied someone he knew standing in front of the fire. He would have been surprised to see _any_ of his companions at the Rose at this time of night, but it was the fact that it was the mage, the abomination, _Anders_ , that gave Fenris pause. Fenris stared at Anders, looking him over from the bottom of his feet to the top of his head, and Fenris realized that Anders was wearing something that was completely unlike the typical ratty clothes the mage paraded about in. 

The worn down boots held together by linen bandages were replaced by soft indoor slippers. His ragged pants were replaced by tight fitting leggings. The jacket with the feather pauldrons had disappeared in favor of a thin muslin tunic, the white fabric so thin it looked more like a veil than a decent shirt. The shirt slightly hung off the mage's tall, skinny frame. His hair flowed loosely around his face. A small golden hoop hung from his ear, glimmering in the firelight. He looked like the sort of dignified pet that the more refined Tevinter magisters kept, the ones that could almost pass as free men. It was disturbing how well Anders fit into the role. He looked young and rakish and all too desirable in the firelight, and Fenris wondered how Anders's eyes turned such a vibrant gold when lined with kohl. 

Fenris shook his head, as if the action would clear his mind of disturbing thoughts. He raised his eyes up to take in Anders's face one more time, and felt a punch of heat low in his gut when Anders recognized him and his golden eyes widened in surprise. While it was amusing, so very amusing, Fenris also felt shame because for a moment he felt overwhelmingly attracted to a mage. And not just any mage, but a powerful one. And Anders was powerful, more powerful than many of the magisters Fenris encountered in Tevinter. More powerful than Danarius, certainly more skilled. The realization was sobering, and instantly put Fenris in a bad mood. Anders may be a powerful mage, but he was being foolish, dressing in strange clothes and standing in the firelight, looking less like the mage he was and more like a slave that he _wasn't_. Fenris approached Anders, scowling when Anders stepped away from him and flinched. 

“Have you taken leave of your senses?” Fenris demanded, and when Anders only replied with snark and avoidance, Fenris grew more and more irritated. If the mage would not speak sense, he would take him to Hawke and they would _make_ Anders speak sense. He grabbed Anders's wrist and then the Madame appeared at his shoulder, and asked why he was harassing her staff. Her worker. Her employee. Fenris saw the world in perfect clarity. The mage had done something foolish, as he always did, something foolish that tied him up in greater foolishness. And his foolishness would affect them all if Fenris did not stop it. He knew what he must do. 

Fenris handed over Madame Lusine's demanded coin and followed Anders upstairs. He sat down at the table and took his worn-down pack of cards from his pouch and began to arrange the pack. The thick paper was smooth along his fingers as he shuffled the cards. He glanced up at Anders, who looked frightened but resigned. An expression that fit the face of a slave, not a free man. It was an expression that did not fit Anders. So when Fenris said something snarky and the fear on the mage's face melted into irritation, Fenris felt satisfied. He was also satisfied to discover that Anders was still terrible at cards. Between his teasing barbs, his sarcastic quips, and a few idle threats (none of which Fenris would have followed through with) Fenris drew out the entire tale from Anders. 

One of the workers had recently given birth, and foolish, self-sacrificing Anders could not help but interfere. He begged the madame to take him as an employee in her stead so the girl could rest and recover from a difficult childbirth. 

“Erzsébet is just so small.” Anders said quietly, sadly, as if he was distraught. Fenris believed it, believed _him_ , and stayed quiet as Anders spoke. Anders spoke of his deal with Lusine, and how he was willing to do anything to help Erzsébet, who needed work to feed her family, her son and her young brothers. Anders talked and talked, and Fenris only listened. When it was done, Fenris understood. He sympathized. He _wanted_ to help. It was wrong that the mage had only been trying to do what was right, was only trying to protect a woman who was little more than a girl herself. And when Fenris thought of how Anders was willing to sacrifice himself, degrade himself, put himself in danger, even deny his magic, all in order to protect a woman and her child, something stirred within him. He had to help. And when he told Anders that he would be protected, and Anders smiled without guile or malice, Fenris wondered how he could have ever been cruel to this man. 

-

Fenris soon learned that, as innocent as Anders's intentions were, they tended to cause massive inconveniences and troubles for everyone. All he wanted, Anders insisted as they accompanied Hawke to the foothills of Sundermount, was to help others. While Hawke and Merrill spoke with the Dalish leader and her kin, Fenris played bodyguard and pack mule as Anders collected mountain herbs for his clinic. He was gratified that Anders was willing to carry his share, and the mage was surprisingly polite. He kept making strange jokes and fluttering his lashes, as if some dirt got in his eye. Fenris shrugged and accepted it as a strange Anders quirk. 

“I wanted to thank you for everything at the Rose.” Anders said quietly. Fenris glanced over. The sunlight made every wrinkle, every worn down feature, every exhausted expression on Anders's face and body so clear, but it made him real, more real than the strange creature that dressed like a magister's body slave playing at being an altus. Fenris preferred this older, worn down, real Anders. This Anders was argumentative, fierce, and free. The other was frightened and fragile. 

Fenris did not wish for Anders to be fragile. 

“I did what was right. I should not be thanked for doing what is right.” Fenris muttered. Anders shook his head, his shy, friendly smile tired now. 

“There are few men who would even do that. I am grateful that you are one of them.” Anders said, and Fenris could not find the words to reply to him. They continued to gather herbs in friendly silence. 

-

A flower garden bloomed on the mage's robes. The embroidered plants swayed on silk, elaborately stitched birds took flight against the aqua fabric. With every movement and flicker of flame, the garment transformed. And if the robe was remarkable, Fenris thought faintly, the man within it was even _more_ enticing. His hair gleamed red-gold, he was tall and lean and muscled, he was glorious and Fenris found himself wanting Anders. He wanted to stroke his skin, pet his hair, run his fingers through the gleaming dark gold of Anders's chest hair and learn what the hair felt like against his hands. 

But it would not be of Anders's choice, Fenris thought with some alarm. If he touched Anders now Fenris would be no better than a magister. He approached Anders and told him to go upstairs. He paid Lusine, and the woman carefully inspected his sovereigns before she smiled politely and informed him that he had full reign of the Rose's collection of items for the night. Fenris did not want to think about what these items were or how they had been used. He resolved never to speak of it to Anders, and he took the stairs two at a time and entered the room Anders currently occupied. 

Anders gave him food and drink, and while the alcohol and Orlesian cakes were too sweet and rich for his tastes, the simple food Anders supplied was perfect. He even had apples, and Fenris was pleased to break bread with Anders. And when Anders looked over his wounds without magic, only gentle touches and easy prescriptions of herbal remedies, a swell of respect, admiration, and something that was like affection rose in his chest. Anders could have forced magic on him, but he did not. He chose to hold back, to give him choices. Fenris lived a life of following orders, of tying his life to a master and his wants. To be given choices.... it was an affirmation that he was right to be his own man. A free man made choices, and Anders respected his freedom. Anders respected _him_. 

Fenris liked that. 

His bruises quickly recovered thanks to Anders's tending, and Fenris thanked him for it as they wandered the Wounded Coast together with Hawke and Varric. Their companions were somewhere ahead, chattering loudly about some sort of rumor, and Fenris took Anders's elbow in one gauntleted hand to steady the man's stance on the slippery rocks of the jagged coastline. 

“Your herbal remedies have worked.” Fenris remarked once Anders regained his balance. “The bruises are fading.” 

“Ribs sore?” Anders asked. 

“Only a bit.” 

“I'll take a look when we're back at camp.” Anders promised, and Fenris let go of the man's elbow. Anders steadied himself and moved forward, picking his way around rocks and wreckage. “Oh, almost forgot. Thought of a few books you should read, since you were reading that book on Marcher history.” 

“Oh?” Fenris's ears perked up at the remark. After Hawke's impatient yet successful attempts at tutoring, Fenris found that he took to reading like a fish took to water. It simply felt natural, like swinging a blade. He loved being able to dissect words, understanding the meanings and stories they told. He found himself reading everything he could get his hands on, devouring manuscripts like he was starving for knowledge. Perhaps he was. 

That night, when they all set up for camp, Fenris found himself starving in other ways as well. When had Anders become so physically enticing? When was the moment that Fenris found himself wanting to touch and be touched? The night he wore that silk robe was the most obvious choice, but Fenris knew it was before then. It was when Anders sat in that tiny room in front of the fire as they played cards, and when Anders confessed that he knew how foolish he was but that he would rather do something foolish than let someone suffer. He sounded lonely at that moment, the darkness behind those slim shoulders growing ever more oppressive. Fenris found himself wanting to chase those shadows away, to take that loneliness out of Anders's voice. 

He excused himself from camp and jumped into the freezing cold ocean water to try and ease the tightness in his leggings and clear the fog in his mind. Fenris could not want Anders. He was falling into bad habits, he scolded himself when he curled into his bed roll. Fenris was always happiest when he had a task to perform, a person to protect. He was merely falling into habit, though he was protecting the mage with his coin rather than his sword. But Fenris knew they were the same feelings, and he was falsely pushing all these feelings onto Anders. And Anders was pleased to be protected, but his kindness and sudden affection was not to be trusted. It was bought. It would not last. 

_”He would not want you.”_ A sickening little voice that sounded like Hadriana, like Danarius, slithered through Fenris's thoughts like a snake in wet grass. _”He fears you, he is kind because he is afraid, who would want an ugly scarred thing like you, so odd looking and wrong, no one wants a monster in their bed, especially one as disgusting as you-”_

Fenris punched his rolled up pack and curled up on his side. He protected Anders because it was the right thing to do, nothing more. He expected nothing out of the arrangement. It was better if nothing came from it. But Fenris's heart still hurt, and the mocking words haunted his sleep. Even when he woke up and dragged himself to the Rose to buy Anders's time before someone worse bought the mage and his services, the words echoed in Fenris's mind. Ugly. Wrong. Wild Everything about him was wrong. Who _would_ want him? 

-

When Fenris next entered the Rose he saw the mage dancing, shimmying his hips to a drum and flute, head tilted back, throat exposed. He was dressed as a Tevinter body slave with a particularly lewd owner, decadent jewlery draped over his neck, kohl brushed in his lashes, long silky skirts like ocean waves frothing over his hips and around his legs. The leg slits revealed muscled thighs and shapely calves as Anders danced across the floor, and Fenris was a monster for wanting what he could not have. He busied himself with ensuring that Anders was safe upstairs, away from prying eyes and wandering hands. Once they were away Fenris became angry. Anders was a fool, a fool who dressed like a body slave, let others stare and touch and put himself at risk, as he let others touch what Fenris wanted, and Fenris felt ugly and wrong, a monster in a man's flesh as he let his anger control him. 

Anders got angry too, angry and upset, and his own anger and self-hatred cooled the rage boiling inside Fenris. When Anders declared he might as well whore himself out, that at least he would get paid if he did, Fenris couldn't help but react, draping a blanket over Anders's slim, shaking shoulders, taking off the jewlery, the thick, heavy collar and bracelets, the earring and the heavy belt. He tucked Anders into his borrowed bed, and sat in a chair so Anders could rest without Fenris distracting him. As Anders slept Fenris scolded himself for staring, for wanting to touch and hold and brush those golden strands out of the man's face. It was not right for him to want as much as he did, or to want at all. Anders had not asked for this. It was _wrong_. But Fenris was weak and could not keep himself away. When Anders woke they ate and talked and played cards, Anders dressed in his skirt and smiling at Fenris, his hair falling about his shoulders and face, and Fenris was content even as he acknowledged how wrong it was for him to want what he could not have. 

-

The next night at the Rose was Anders's last night, for which Fenris was grateful. He would be more grateful if he could manage to get to the Rose faster, but Hawke was being Hawke and had kept him longer than he anticipated. There was another crisis with the Qunari and Hawke needed Fenris to play translator and diplomat, and while Fenris understood why his presence was required he was desperate to leave. He hurried to the Rose as soon as he could, and not a moment too soon. A Templar, a drunken oaf with more muscles than common sense, had cornered Anders. 

“You best help the Healer before there's trouble for all of us.” One of the prostitutes, a male elf with sharp features and a tongue to match. “He's been especially attentive to you, you owe him this much!” And while Fenris wanted to protest, wanted to tell the elf that Anders owed him nothing and did not have to pay any attention to him, he was more concerned about Anders. So he intervened, pushed the larger man away, created space between the Templar and Anders. When Fenris got Anders away and led him upstairs, what Anders was wearing finally registered in Fenris's mind, and he was flooded with desire. When Anders collapsed in a chair and leaned over to untie his boots, Fenris leapt at the chance to touch and caress his calves, to feel the silken stockings and slide up to the garters, to touch Anders's thighs and feel even more. This was wrong, it was so wrong. But he wanted. He wanted and he could not stop wanting. But he controlled himself, he only took off the boots and deposited them away from Anders, a feeble attempt to put distance between them. 

But then Anders drew closer, he was touching Fenris, he was _touching_ him while wearing that corset and skirt, and the stockings, and Fenris felt like his mind was melting. Anders confessed his attraction, Fenris tried to deny him, but Fenris was selfish and weak. All he wanted was Anders, and Anders wanted him even though Fenris was ugly and awful. But it was wrong, it was too wrong, and Fenris told Anders to wait, to come to him later when he wasn't obligated to stay with Fenris for his own safety. Anders kissed him, and Fenris couldn't remember if he had ever been kissed before. It felt safe when Anders kissed him, and Fenris wanted to stay that way forever. When they pulled away Anders held him close and promised to see him, and Fenris couldn't help but believe him. 

-

Fenris was still surprised that Anders visited him. He knew Anders was a man of his word, but he thought the mage would come to his senses and avoid Fenris, avoid all the trouble that came with being with, well.... with him. Fenris was even more surprised when Anders approached him and asked for something substantial. Then Anders touched him, ran his hands over his body, made Fenris feel comfortable and happy and desirable. Anders was attentive and let Fenris do as he pleased, wanted Fenris to keep in control and be comfortable as he did what he wanted. Fenris loved every moment of it, Anders's touch driving away the voices and the doubt and all his little fears. Anders wanted to be there, Fenris wanted him there, and everything was good. So they did it again, and again, until they were more often together than apart, meeting wherever they could, whenever they had time. Anders would sneak into his mansion, Fenris would venture to the Darktown clinic, they both volunteered to share tents when they accompanied Hawke on his trips. They often spent their days apart, but their nights... 

“Fenris.” Anders begged sweetly as he lay underneath Fenris and bucked his hips frantically. “Fenris, _please_!” He whimpered and writhed, his long fingered, elegant hands twisting and grabbing the sheets. Fenris smiled and laughed and covered Anders in kisses as he drove Anders wild under him, thrusting up and in and urging Anders to completion. 

“You are lovely, so lovely.” Fenris murmured into Anders's ear before nibbling the earlobe, lightly tugging the small ring that hung there. Anders was perfect under him, every wrinkle and freckle and silver hair proof of a life lived. The daytime toils were no hardship when he had someone to return to once the day's work was done. 

“You're one- oh yes, Maker, right there Fenris- you're one to t-aaahhh!” Anders moaned, his release sticky between them, driving Fenris to his own end. Fenris curled up next to Anders, satiated and at peace. Anders reached a hand out and traced around Fenris's lyrium lines on his chest. 

“Fenris, you are wonderful.” Anders said with a content smile, his eyes heavy-lidded and sleepy. “Andraste's tits, you are just so sweet.” 

“Sweet?” Fenris asked with a chuckle. Anders had not said that earlier tonight, when Fenris teased him during their weekly game of Wicked Grace at the Hanged Man. He traced up Anders's calves and thighs with his foot, brushed against him whenever they passed each other, worked Anders to sexual frustration and then took him home to the mansion to work that frustration off. 

“Mmm. Sweet.” Anders opened his eyes and stroked Fenris's cheek. “Sweet and handsome. I'm lucky to have you around.” 

One of the best things about being with Anders, Fenris thought, were the quiet moments after sex. Anders was tired and cuddly and affectionate, and Fenris soaked up the attention and praise as they curled up together and slept, the negative voices fading into whispers in his head. 

“You know, we haven't told our friends about us.” Anders murmured into Fenris's hair, his breath ruffling Fenris's hair. Fenris nestled his face into the crook of Anders's neck and exhaled. 

“Do you want to?” He asked, opening one eye to take in Anders's expression. Anders shrugged with one shoulder casually, but he was biting his lip nervously. 

“I assumed you didn't.” Anders confessed in a small voice. 

“I have no particular feelings on the subject.” Fenris remarked before propping himself up on his elbow. “But I am pleased to be with you. I enjoy what we have.” Anders's smile was like the sun. “So you don't mind?” 

“If it will make you happy, Anders, I will do what you wish.” Fenris murmured, leaning back down to press a kiss against Anders's cheek, the stubble scratching his lips and chin. 

“Mmmm, I'll have to give you a reward.” Anders murmured, grinning mischievously and wiggling out from under Fenris's grip. “What would you like?” 

“Fasta vass, Anders, you will kill me.” Fenris groaned, flopping onto his back as Anders scrambled on top of him and eagerly straddled Fenris's hips. Fenris smiled and grabbed Anders's hand, squeezing it tightly. The future was not a frightening thing with Anders at his side.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, commenting, bookmarking, and/or leaving kudos on this work! I appreciate it very much! I hope you all enjoy this story!
> 
> Quick Edit: There will be more! I just messed up and forgot to fix the chapters. It's fixed now. Thank you, everyone!


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